


Security

by orphan_account



Category: Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-02
Updated: 2014-03-02
Packaged: 2018-01-14 07:18:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1257691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crutchie takes care of Jack whenever Jack's too busy looking after everyone else to take care of himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Security

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ladylegsenjolras](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladylegsenjolras/gifts).



There were times when Jack reminded Crutchie of a statue. Not just any statue, though - a particular one. He’d passed it near the park every so often, hadn’t ever really paid much attention to it. But there was one time when it did catch his attention, and that image had stayed with him ever since. See, it’d just stormed the night before. Branches and debris were strewn every which way - even the bench had been turned over. But that statue? He just kept standing there, head held high, like nothin’ would ever touch it. That was Jack Kelly all over.

At least, that was the side of Jack that he wanted people to see. The fearless leader. The legend. The untouchable hero - more than merely flesh and blood, he was cast iron.

And he was good at it. Jack had always been skilled in the art of deception; maintaining an image came with the territory. Even Crutchie had bought it for the first couple months of knowing him.

But as Race had smugly explained to him one evening over a hand ‘a cards, “Everybody’s got their tells. _Everybody_. Even Jumpin’ Jack over there can’t fool me. See the way he’s got his hands clenched at his sides? He may be smilin’, but he sure ain’t happy.”

Race hadn’t seemed all too concerned then; more pleased than anything else that he could see what he wasn’t supposed to. But Crutchie hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it. How many times had Jack shouldered everyone else’s problems without anyone to go to for his own? Who took care of the people who were too busy taking care of everyone else to look after themselves?

Their nighttime rooftop excursions had started pretty soon after that. Crutchie made a habit of asking Jack to come look at the stars up on the roof with him on nights when he could tell Jack was upset. After that, it was only a matter of time before the night and the sky and the quiet, faraway sounds of the city below began to open him up, little by little.

~~~

They didn’t hit often, but when they did, they hit hard. Jack had these nights sometimes, when his hands shook so bad he couldn’t draw, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t hardly keep up the pretense that everything was fine until Crutchie whisked him away to the roof.

“C’mon, Jack. Ain’t no place to go but up,” he urged gently, using their old private joke to try to make him smile. Originally, it had been something Specs liked to say whenever Henry complained about life on the bottom of the heap. But the opportunity to use such a phrase while climbing to the top of a building had been just too good for Crutchie to pass up.

Jack humored Crutchie with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes and rose to follow him.  
He seemed to deflate once they were away from the others, practically collapsing in on himself as he settled down and hugged his knees to his chest.

Crutchie laid a tentative hand on his shoulders, and waited.

“You know, you should see Santa Fe.” Jack mused quietly. “You’d like it. All that open air, none of these damn office buildings to block out the sky. I bet the stars go on for miles.

“Ya say that like you’ve been there,” Crutchie grinned.

“Yup. Every day.” Jack replied, as the ghost of a smile spread across his face. “Jus’, you know, in my head. But one of these days,” he promised, “one of these days I’ll see it for real.”

Each of them had their comforts. Race had his cards. JoJo had his slingshot. Finch still wrote home every once in a while. And for some of them, these comforts – these security objects - weren’t quite so solid. Like Henry’s dream of owning a deli, or Romeo’s ongoing quest for true love. As much as Jack tried to act like nothing ever touched him, he still dragged that idea of Santa Fe around like a little child carrying a blanket.

Crutchie settled his head against Jack’s shoulder. “You’se better send me a postcard then, when ya get there.”

Jack turned to face him, confusion etched across his face.

“So’s I can see the sky…” Crutchie added nervously, worried that he’d said the wrong thing and made things worse somehow.

Jack stared at him for a moment longer, as if searching for something within his eyes. Crutchie could feel the blood rising to his cheeks, and was about to say something to break the silence when Jack surged forward suddenly and kissed him on the mouth.

Crutchie balled his hands into the fabric of Jack’s shirt and pulled him closer.

“You should come with me,” Jack exclaimed breathlessly after pulling away. He reached up to caress Crutchie’s face. “Come see for yourself.”

Race had his cards, and JoJo had his slingshot. Finch had his family, Henry had his dream deli, and Jack had Santa Fe.

But Crutchie?

Crutchie had Jack.


End file.
